


A Different Perspective

by aliferously



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Deceit Sanders - Freeform, M/M, Remus mention, Swearing, Virgil being rude, implied vaping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21931252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliferously/pseuds/aliferously
Summary: Virgil considers theater a foreign concept, and one he's never particularly been interested in, either.Then, of course, he sees Logan, an actor in the upcoming play.It all snowballs from there.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48
Collections: Sanders Sides Secret Santa 2019





	A Different Perspective

It all started, as most things do, with a project. 

“You have to join theater, it’s the best,” Virgil’s partner, some kid named Roman Prince (which, okay, what kind of Disney-esque name was that?) said. Roman had probably a million freckles and vibrant red hair and just the sort of personality one would expect from a theater kid, really. 

“Maybe,” Virgil said vaguely, meaning no. “Do you think we should make two slides for background?” 

“Yeah,” Roman said. His fingers tapped against the table in some sort of rhythm. “So what do you do? Outside of school, I mean.” 

Virgil sighed. Gross. Personal topics. “Nunya.” 

Roman shot him a look and, surprisingly, didn’t take the bait. “Don’t be such a shut-in.” 

Virgil blinked, at that, not expecting such bluntness from him. His lips quirked, despite himself. “What if I told you I was in an underground band that took up all of my time, and that I’m secretly famous?” 

“I’d call you a liar and a coward,” Roman said smoothly. “C’mon. You know I like theater. I also do soccer. What’s your thing?”

“You play soccer?” Virgil repeated. It was surprising to him, somehow. 

“Yeah,” Roman said. He waved his hands. “Do you like Woolf?” 

“What?”

“Virginia Woolf. The author our project is on?” Roman said. His fingers tap, tap, tapped away, eyes a vibrant green-brown. 

“Oh,” Virgil said dumbly. “Um. She’s cool, I guess. I liked that section from A Room Of One’s Own. Her style is a little hard to get into but I respect that.” 

“That’s it?” Roman said. He sounded strangely disappointed, and a well of defensive anger rose in Virgil’s throat. 

“Well, I don’t have to analyze her to finish this project,” Virgil said, words edged with heat. “And the hell does that mean? That’s it?”

Roman shrank away from him. “Everyone talked about how good at English you are,” Roman said, and then he gave Virgil a sheepish grin. “Uh. I just expected something big.” 

“Bold of you to assume I’ll put any amount of effort into this class,” Virgil said. He leaned back in his chair, toeing the line between upright and crashing to the ground. 

“Valid,” Roman said. He sighed. “Okay, but at least like, go to the play? Please? It’s in like, a month.”

“Yeah, sure, if I can,” Virgil replied. At Roman’s grin, Virgil almost has the heart to feel bad about not going. 

The bell rang, saving Virgil from further conversation and also releasing him to wreak havoc on the world. He darted out the door only to bump into someone -- tall, with dark hair and electric blue eyes that were  _ not _ healthy for Virgil’s soul. 

He sputtered out a swift, “sorry!”, to which the student replied, “You’re good, don’t worry,” with the smoothest voice in the world (which was incredibly unfair, they were still in  _ highschool _ , after all). 

Virgil got the hell out of dodge, so to speak, so he wouldn’t make a  _ further _ fool of himself in front of this incredibly Tall and Pretty boy. 

Roman, behind him, said a cheerful, “Oh, hey, Logan! Do you have rehearsal tonight?” 

“Yes, until six,” the smooth voice, Logan, said, his voice fading into the background as Virgil dodged around students, voices blurring into a large mesh of noise. 

Logan, huh? 

Virgil, in a sheer act of willpower, forced his blush down. Couldn’t have actual people see he had feelings, after all. 

Someone blurred passed him, taking a flying leap over a garbage can before skidding around the corner and disappearing. 

Virgil sighed, pulling the strings of his hoodie so his face steadily disappeared behind a curtain of fabric. 

He hated highschool. 

“Percy got caught in the boy’s bathroom,” Damian said, falling into step beside Virgil. “I think they’re shutting it down again.” 

“I’m going to murder Percy, maybe,” Virgil muttered. 

Damian laughed in that halfway humorous, halfway empty sort of way. “Alright. What’re your plans for tonight?” 

“I’m booked,” Virgil said, even though he wasn’t. 

“Tragic. Remus and I are going to the trainyard. If you find yourself suddenly with a lot of free time on your hands, swing by,” Damian said, and with that, he vanished into the crowd. 

Virgil huffed, hair blowing up and settling back down. Every conversation with Damian seemed soaked in seven layers of cynicism and he really didn’t have the energy to deal with that. Even though he was starved for social contact. 

Whatever. 

He was free for the rest of the night. 

_ You should go to rehearsal _ , some traitorous, weak part of his brain whispered. Because  _ okay _ ,  _ maybe _ Roman was a little cool, with the way he seemed impassioned by everything, and was pretty funny to boot. And, of course, he seemed relatively chill with Virgil’s prickly exterior, the one he (drama alert) placed to keep people out of his life. 

Also Logan was gorgeous and Virgil kind-of wanted to see him in action, if only to show his brain how horrific watching people attempt to act on stage really was, so he could stop his mind from focusing on this One Specific Individual. Really crimped his loner vibe if he suddenly obsessed over a theater kid. 

So he wandered through the music halls, confused and turned around, opening doors and slipping away from confused stares until he finally found the auditorium lobby and realized that he could’ve just gone through the standard doors, like when they had a presentation about no smoking that Virgil ended up skipping anyway. 

He pressed on, meandering along with false purpose. He nodded at a person with cropped, colored hair, and they nodded back, a curious expression settling on their face. 

Virgil walked in, leaned against a building post, and frowned. The stage was empty save for a cart of lights, a Christmas tree, some ladders, and other miscellaneous items. 

Wouldn’t rehearsal be on stage? 

“Looking for someone?” 

Virgil flinched, swiveling on one heel. The person with vibrant green hair stared back at him, arching a slitted, blue eyebrow. 

They didn’t repeat themself, and Virgil cleared his throat, hand anxiously messing with his hair. “Uh. Yeah.” Full send, right? But should he look for Roman, or Logan? He barely knew Logan, even though he  _ wanted _ to know Logan. But he couldn’t go that far into a lie. He wasn’t Damian, after all. “Roman Prince.” 

Their other eyebrow followed the first, shooting straight up to their hairline. “Roman? Okay. Follow me,” they said, jerking their head. They were holding a stack of books, old and musty, and they pushed various doors open with their back. 

“Do you want uh -- help?” Virgil asked. He bit his lip, eyes darting to the side. Wow, he really should not be here. Like, of all the places he didn’t know, or felt awkward in -- the theater was a big one. At least he knew where to hide in the gyms and cardio room, and the art hall was his home. Damian had showed him all around the tech wing, because Damian liked making weird shit, especially on school time. 

But the theater?

That was unknown territory. 

“No,” they said. They pressed through one final door, entering the wings. He could see the stage, pocket marked with wood where the paint scuffed away. 

“Rehearsal’s in the greenroom, but they won’t start until four,” they said. “I have to get these to Dahlia. Do you know where greenroom is?” 

They stared at Virgil, as if expecting him to say no. He shrank into his hoodie, off-balance. 

“Hey Talyn, where’s -- wait. Virgil?” 

Virgil stiffened. 

“Oh my god, hey!” Roman flitted into view, a beaming smile on his face. He was glowing, standing in the wings, a totally different person than in Literary History. “What’re you doing here?” 

Virgil shrugged. He kicked at the ground. 

Talyn stood still for one, two moments, before saying, “Well, I have things to do, places to be, goodbye,” and vanishing behind a door into a brightly lit room that smelled strongly of sawdust. 

Roman softened, a little. “Have you been backstage before?” 

Virgil shook his head, no. 

“I can give you a tour, if you want,” Roman said. He seemed like the sun itself was burrowed in his soul, bouncing on his heels. He grinned. “Nobody knows this place better than I do!” 

Virgil blinked. He didn’t know enough about theater to discount him, and Roman seemed perfectly happy with his self-assessment. “Sure.”

“Cool! Well, this is stage left, and this side has the shop and the second lobby where the cleaning closet is. I’ll show you around the shop, first,” Roman said. He pushed through the same door Talyn had disappeared behind. “Oh, that was Talyn, by the way. They’re technically makeup crew leader, but they do a bunch for everyone, especially costume now that Kai is -- going through some family stuff. Kai’s costume crew leader.” 

Virgil nodded, like he knew these people and what these words meant. The tech crew had different factions? 

They entered a room with tall ceilings, walls covered in props and wood panels, cabinets reaching higher than Virgil thought people could reach, with stuff on top of the cabinets to boot. A wooden staircase lead up to a door, and Roman lead him around, pointing out the door to the tool room, the solid worktable, the saw. 

“I like working here but Sanders thinks I bring disaster wherever I go,” Roman said, pouting. 

“You do,” Talyn said, squeaking past the two of them. 

Roman huffed at them, but didn’t reply. “Let’s go through the basement.” 

“Nope! We’re working down there. No solicitors,” Talyn said. 

“So basically a secret costume-makeup meeting,” Roman said. Talyn winked at him, eyes twinkling, and they vanished down a set of concrete stairs. 

“Ugh, okay. We’ll go through backstage,” Roman said, leading Virgil back through the original door and around the back of the stage. 

Roman glanced at Virgil. “Um, I’m on cast, but I like hanging around even when I don’t have rehearsal,” he said. “Okay. Um. I guess I’ll just out and say it? Because I’m a little confused, I thought you didn’t like me.” 

Virgil winced. He was really good at exuding that “don’t like you” energy. It was one of his talents. 

“I don’t not like you,” Virgil said. “You’re… different in History Lit.” 

Roman stared at him. “Different?” 

“Quieter. More of a doormat.” 

“Wow, okay,” Roman said. He stood still for a few moments. “I don’t know how to respond to that.” 

Virgil shrugged, stuffed his hands in his hoodie pockets. 

“Okay. Well. At least you’re interested in theater?” Roman said, frowning, as if trying to convince himself. “And you came back because of… what I said?” 

Virgil winced. He didn’t really have a good reason, did he? But the… lines of ropes looked interesting, and Talyn seemed cool. He kinda thought all theater kids were like… Roman. 

Which, as someone who was sick and tired of teachers and students alike thinking him a troublemaker just because he liked ripped jeans, big hoodies, and not trying, well… it was pretty hypocritical of him. 

“Hey Roman, who’s this?” 

Virgil’s shoulders shot to his ears, his entire body freezing up. 

“Oh, hey Logan, this is Virgil, he’s in my history lit class,” Roman said, peering over Virgil’s shoulder. 

Virgil couldn’t breathe. Oh god. Logan was  _ right there.  _

“Hello,” Logan said. Virgil turned, shaking ever so slightly. 

Logan stood there, just… existing. He smiled at Virgil, the smallest quirk of his lips. Tall, dark hair, looking for all intents and purposes the coolest nerd he’s ever seen. 

He swallowed. 

“Hi,” he said. 

“I’m Logan,” Logan said. “You’re interested in drama?”

“Yeah, totally,” Virgil choked out. Roman stared at him. 

“That’s cool. You’re too late to try out, but if you wanted to do crew or something, the sign ups went up today,” Logan said. He smiled. “There’s the spring show if you’re into acting, though. But hey, if you want to join drama club just to see the people, there’s the lock-in on Friday.” 

Virgil tried to process all this information while simultaneously not looking stupid in front of Logan, or, heavens forbid, committing to something. 

“You should come!” Roman said. He hopped next to Virgil (where did he get all of his energy?). “It’ll be a blast and a half! And, just between us, if you come early you can score a spot on a couch.” 

“You caught Roman’s favor,” Logan noted. At Virgil’s confused glance, he laughed. “Roman won’t give away secrets to just anyone. Normally he’d let you sit on the floor like any other newcomer.” 

Roman just smiled. “Don’t you have a rehearsal to get to?” 

Logan glanced at his wrist. Eyes widening, he jerked, long limbs moving almost as an afterthought. “Oh, shit, I’ll see you later Ro! You too, Virgil!” 

And with that, Logan casually raced away. 

Virgil exhaled. His shoulders slumped. 

“Sooo,” Roman said. He popped up by Virgil’s arm -- he was noticeably shorter than Virgil -- with a smirk. “Logan, huh?” 

Virgil flattened his expression. “Hm?” 

“Dude, I know romance when I see it,” Roman said. “Virgil, you’re kind-of a cool dude once you get past the douchebag exterior.” 

Virgil laughed. He couldn’t help it -- the shock from Roman’s words just bypassed his anti-laughter filters. 

Roman’s face lit up. “See, I could tell you were more than just a shallow bad boy!” he crowed. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Virgil said, flattening his expression. “I will key your car.” 

“Jokes on you, I drive my brother Patton’s car, and you’d truly have to be a heartless devil to key that!” 

Virgil rolled his eyes. He didn’t know “Patton”, so he had no personal preconceptions about keying some rando’s car, but he didn’t really want to do property damage at the moment, anyway, so. Moot point. 

“Well, I’m hanging around until five, when Patton’s robotics club ends,” Roman said, glancing at his phone. “How about you?” 

Virgil shrugged. He could go to the trainyard, he supposed. Mooch spray paint off of Remus and Damian. 

Or he could go home and blast music until his mom got home at seven. 

“Going home,” Virgil said. 

“Cool,” Roman said. He smiled, the freckles by his eyes pinching. “See you tomorrow!” 

“See you,” Virgil said. 

He stood uncomfortably for one, two, three beats, before Roman swelled up like a balloon. “Oh, shoot, I forgot to show you the exit! C’mon.” Roman marched through the shop, following a straight path outlined in tape or paint of some sort. He showed off the large shop doors dramatically. “Here you go. It’s right next to the main lot. Do you have a main lot spot?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said. He didn’t. 

“Cool,” Roman said. “Cool cool cool. Well, goodbye for real this time!” 

“Bye,” Virgil said. He pushed through the doors, swiping hair out of his eyes from the breeze. 

Then he walked home and blasted his music throughout the house, uncaring of his neighbors, trying to drown out his incessant thoughts, trying to forget the fact that Roman seemed genuinely interested in him, or -- or, more importantly, forget Logan’s smile. 

_ Fuck _ . 

He was a goner. 


End file.
